


Pumpkin Problems

by trixie_moon



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, M/M, Miya Atsumu Needs a Hug, Multi, Past Relationship(s), Pining Miya Atsumu, Post-Break Up, Pumpkin Spice, Pumpkins, The Author Regrets Nothing, ambiguous timeline, could be set wherever in hq canon, the author projects her hatred of pumpkin on atsumu, though it wasn't even a breakup, volleyball idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:54:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26639152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trixie_moon/pseuds/trixie_moon
Summary: Atsumu hates fall. Why? It’s his birthday, isn’t it? And it’s not too cold and not too hot...but that’s not why.It's because of pumpkins.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20
Collections: Autumn Haikyuwu Server Collab, Creative Chaos Discord Recs





	Pumpkin Problems

**Author's Note:**

> Atsumu needs a hug

Fall is the season that Atsumu should like best. It’s not too cold and not too warm. He doesn’t need a coat, just a hoodie is fine for his morning runs. Besides, it’s his birthday soon, and he’s always looked forward to that day the most. His brother, the entire volleyball team, and (y/n) would come to hang out with him, usually at a park or something so they can all play volleyball. 

But since _the meeting_ happened less than a week ago, he hasn’t been the same and it’s making everything else feel off. 

Osamu doesn’t bother to ask, instead wordlessly supplying his twin more and more onigiri. Though Atsumu knows it’s pointless to eat all this without (y/n), he’s okay with it. It helps him think that maybe you don’t actually hate him after all. 

The only time that the peaceful silence between Osamu and Atsumu is broken is when Osamu gives his twin an onigiri with pumpkin in it.

He spits it out, disgusted with what he just tasted. “‘Samu, the hell was _that?_ ”

Osamu sighs, unfazed. “You need to get over (y/n), this isn’t good for you...”

“No! What was that?”

Osamu stares at him blankly. “What was what?”

Atsumu groans, slamming his fist on the table, making it rattle. “The Onigiri flavor, what was that?”

“Oh,” says Osamu and he has the _nerve_ to look smug about this, “The pumpkin spice onigiri I made for you and (y/n).”

Atsumu sighs, no longer angry. His brother liked you and Atsumu together, you kept him from inflating his ego too much.

But the reminder did nothing to please Atsumu. “Reminding me of (y/n) isn’t gonna make me better faster,” he grouses “It’s not gonna make me enjoy fall again.”

“And why not? Why does (y/n) remind you of fall?”

And Atsumu sighs, thinking of you and all the things you did together. The way your eyes lit up when you went on walks together in the fall chill, making leaf piles together and jumping on them to make a big mess, going hunting for pumpkins to use for whatever strange plot you made up next, but best of all, the way you loved to lick the whipped cream off his nose when he got hot chocolate and you always insisted on ordering the same drink. He memorized your order, actually. 

_One pumpkin spice latte, medium so if you’re still hungry, there’s more, but if you’re not so hungry, you don’t get full; two shots of pumpkin spice, four ice cubes so it doesn’t get too hot, but it’s not too cold, and as much whipped cream as possible._

Atsumu just swings his legs back and forth under the table, thinking of you. 

Thinking of you makes him nostalgic for what could have been. You could have been more than friends. But he was too chicken, _too chicken_. He fucked up your order, which he has never done in the three years you’ve been friends and five years you’ve known each other somewhat vaguely. 

Then he forgot your gift so he had to rush home and pray that it was still nestled underneath his bed, where his parents would never find it. But it wasn’t there, it was sitting right by the door. Atsumu wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but he really couldn’t afford to do that. Putting your gift in his black backpack, the teen ran down the steps as fast as he could.

But he took too long. Far too long. He managed to miss the last train to the library you had first met him at. No big deal though, right? He could just walk there, it wasn’t too far. That, of course, being dependent on the overcast sky cooperating with him. But it had already been established that today was just not Atsumu’s day, not at all. Even as he ran to make it on time, his bag flew open, and the rain poured inside.

By the time he finally made it to the dry library porch, your gifts, all of them, had been soaked. But that wouldn’t have mattered anyways, they were all ripped up.

Your latte was ruined and so too were the other gifts Atsumu had brought for you. Everything was completely, totally ruined, and it wasn’t even your fault. So Atsumu couldn’t blame you when he saw you sitting at a table, reading a book, completely ignoring him. He knew he looked like shit and he knew that you knew that too, looking him up and down, scrutinizing every single detail of his appearance. Even your simple black ensemble to blend in with the rain made you look like a model...and Atsumu like a bedraggled mess. 

So when he looked at you with that crooked, nervous smile, offering the few things he was able to save (a bookmark and bracelet) and your coffee, you laughed at him for being late and looking so bad. Sure, it was only five minutes that you had been waiting, but you were a very busy person and didn’t have time for his excuses. So you didn’t take his apologies, just your latte and gifts, leaving the blonde boy behind with a disgusted scoff.

Even his platitudes, “(y/n), come back!” didn’t dissuade you in your steps, firm and unmoving. You glared at him over your shoulder. “I’ll never date someone as heartless as you.” you sneered.

That was almost two weeks ago. Pumpkin spice lattes still surround Atsumu, and he can’t escape his failures. He can’t stop thinking of you either. How he wants to hold your hand just one more time, read books until the librarian kicks the two of you out for the fifth night in a row, and best of all, steal Osamu's onigiri projects and “taste-test” them for him, and just _be._

He wants that. But he can’t have that.

It’s almost his birthday, and that day is probably going to be the worst for him. You would always surprise him with a heartfelt message and sweet gift. Last year, it was a new gift card to the coffeeshop just two blocks away from your house, the same one he had met you at, with that same stupid pumpkin spice latte.

The year before that, it had been a lifetime gift certificate for the local nail salon. He remembers many long nights that you would sit with him on your bed and you would berate him ever-so-fondly for his lack of hand hygiene, “Especially for a setter, Atsumu! You need to take better care of your hands, how else will you become a professional setter?” 

He remembers the exact smell of your hygiene products too, and it was rather unsurprisingly, pumpkin spice. He can never escape that stupid smell, can he? It’s the smell he’s always associated with you, he supposes. It makes sense.

His hands still tingle with the way that you gently caressed them in your own. He remembers how warm they were, like two hot stones, but not so hot that they burned. They were just warm. That comforted him many nights where he had a nightmare and just wanted you to hold his hands and tell him that he was being a baby and you would hold his hands until he fell asleep. You never broke your promise. Never broke any of them, even once. 

So Atsumu can’t blame you for leaving. He just wishes that it wasn’t on such bad terms. Then maybe the taste of pumpkin wouldn’t make him cry. 


End file.
